True Inclusion Starts with Seeing Students for Who They Are

Imagine stepping into a new environment where your name is mispronounced or shortened to something more “convenient.” It’s a minor inconvenience, perhaps, but one that over time chips away at your sense of belonging. Now imagine this happening every day, in a place where you are supposed to grow, learn, and thrive.

For many students, particularly those from ethnic minority backgrounds, this is not hypothetical—it is their daily reality. And yet, within the walls of our classrooms, the power of a name is often underestimated. Names are not just labels; they carry history, identity, and cultural heritage. To overlook them is to overlook the student. To get them right is to affirm who they are.

Beyond Good Intentions: Why Inclusion Must Be Active

In a recent workshop with early career teachers, we explored what it really means to create inclusive classrooms—beyond policies, beyond slogans, and into the lived experiences of students. The session began with a simple but revealing exercise: storytelling.

One African tale set the tone. A great flood sweeps through the land, and every animal finds a way to escape—even the mighty crocodile. High up in the trees, the monkeys spot a fish struggling in the floodwaters. Moved by compassion, they “rescue” it, placing it safely on a branch. Of course, the fish begins to suffocate.

The lesson is clear: good intentions do not equate to good outcomes. In education, a one-size-fits-all approach can be just as ineffective as the monkeys’ well-meaning mistake. Every student has unique needs, shaped by culture, background, and identity. The question is, are we paying attention?

Consider this: A teacher, in an off-the-cuff remark during a classroom discussion on relationships, casually states that arranged marriages are “backward” or “unfair.” It’s not intended to harm, just a spontaneous reaction based on personal beliefs. But what if a student from a culture where arranged marriages are the norm is sitting there, quietly absorbing that statement?

Perhaps this student has spent years trying to navigate the space between two worlds—balancing the values of their family with the expectations of the society they are growing up in. Now, in a single moment, they are made to feel that their culture is lesser. They may go home carrying this conflict, questioning their parents, their upbringing, and where they truly belong. Suddenly, they feel like an outsider in both places—neither fully at home at school nor at home with their family.

This is the impact of uninformed assumptions. Educators do not just teach subjects; they shape perspectives. A thoughtless comment can widen the gap between a young person and their identity, making them feel alienated rather than empowered.

To be truly inclusive, we must move beyond our own perceptions and seek to understand the lived experiences of others. We must create spaces where students don’t feel forced to choose between their heritage and their education, but rather see their identities reflected and respected within the school environment.

Because, just like the fish in the flood, what a student truly needs may not be what we assume is best for them. Listening, learning, and adapting is the key to meaningful inclusion.

Rethinking What It Means to ‘See’ Our Students

An alternative version of the tale drove the point home. In this retelling, the animals hold a competition to see who can see the farthest. The eagle soars and surveys the horizon, the giraffe gazes across the savanna, and the monkey takes in the view from the treetops. When it’s the fish’s turn, it can only see the immediate waters around it. The other animals laugh—until the fish explains that while they focus on the distance, it detects subtle currents, hidden dangers, and movements they cannot perceive.

Here lies a second lesson: students should not be judged against a singular definition of success. The education system, often fixated on rigid measures of ability, risks missing the unique strengths that lie beneath the surface. A student who struggles with traditional assessments may have an extraordinary ability to lead, innovate, or empathize—if only we are willing to recognize it.

The Power of a Name

Of all the discussions that day, one stood out: the impact of names. Inspired by Bennie Kara’s work on diversity in education, we asked teachers to explore their own names—their meanings, origins, and the personal stories behind them. What followed was a conversation about identity, belonging, and the small but significant ways that schools can either affirm or erode a student’s sense of self.

One student shared how her intended name was “Yah Yah,” meaning “gift from God,” but her parents, wanting to make life easier in an English-speaking country, renamed her Ysabella. She was seated alongside another student, Anjali, whose name means “gift to God.” Here were two students, from different cultures, bound by the same idea: they were gifts.

Imagine the impact of recognising that connection—not as a coincidence, but as an intentional act of inclusion. When we take the time to pronounce a name correctly, to understand its meaning, or even to ask about it, we are sending a powerful message: You belong here.

Moving From Awareness to Action

It is easy to talk about inclusion in broad terms. It is harder—but far more necessary—to embed it into daily teaching practice. The workshop concluded with three core reflections for teachers:

• Cultural Competence:  How much do I really know about my students’ backgrounds? Where are the gaps? What steps can I take to learn more?
• Equity Over Equality:  Do I recognize the unique needs of my students? How can I tailor my support to meet them where they are?
• Celebrating Identity:  What cultural capital do my students bring into the classroom? How can I acknowledge and honour it?

Education is not just about imparting knowledge; it is about shaping identities. A student who feels unseen will struggle to engage. A student who feels valued will thrive.

The work of inclusion is not grandiose. It does not require a total overhaul of curriculum or sweeping policy changes. It starts with the smallest of acts: a correctly pronounced name, a thoughtful seating plan, a recognition that success looks different for everyone.

And perhaps, that is the greatest takeaway of all—belonging is built in the details.

References:

Fernando-Smith,L and Aow, A, (2024), ‘Letting go of imposter syndrome: writing herstory.’ In Disruptive Women – A Guide for Equitable Action in Education, Corwin

Kara, B., 2020. A little guide for teachers: Diversity in schools, Corwin

Pierson, R., 2013. Every kid needs a champion. TED Talks Education.